


A splendid, perfect life

by anairim



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Day 7, KuroKen Week 2020, M/M, Realisation, but it's not too explicit, but this just came out, i really wanted to finish up with some fluff, tw: mention of depression, tw: mention of suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anairim/pseuds/anairim
Summary: Tetsurou doesn't have the life he wanted for himself.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	A splendid, perfect life

**Author's Note:**

> pls let me know if this hurts anyone's sensitivity.
> 
> i really wanted to finish kuroken week with some wholesome content, but angst popped out. If you're uncomfortable with the trigger warnings listed in the tags, please stay safe and don't read this.
> 
> That said, thank you all for sticking with me through this experience, it's been a fun ride!!!

Tetsurou is twenty-five years old when he gets denied his dream job as a research worker in the biochemistry field. He is twenty-five years old when he gets his knee injured and the doctor tells him he can never play volleyball again if he wants to be able to walk for the rest of his life. He is twenty-five years old when his father dies unexpectedly. The last of his family, snatched away from him so suddenly.

He’s twenty-five when he starts laying in bed all day, not eating at all or eating too much and just waiting for life to put an end to him too.

But then, everytime, life gives him Kenma instead.

He can hear him padding barefoot in the other room, shuffling pots and plates so that Tetsurou can find them easily and not give up on breakfast like he does as of lately.

He’s probably just finished a live-stream and about to collapse for lack of sleep and Tetsurou kind of wishes he would come to bed and snuggle close to him and stay there forever.

Kenma does enter the room soon after that thought, but he’s bringing a glass of water and his meds and even if he looks super tired he’s not going to even _think_ about getting into bed if he can’t convince Tetsurou to get out of it.

“You’re awake?” he asks, in a kind whisper. “How long have you been?”

Tetsurou shrugs, stares at his tangled up hair, his baggy attire and the pizza stain he has on his hoodie, probably from last night, when he was playing horror games for his fans and eating at the same time.

“You’re beautiful,” he says.

Kenma smiles a little, then crawls on the bed besides him. “You too,” he says. “Come on.”

Tetsurou sits up, feeling a sense of dread enveloping him the moment his covers pool down on his lap. Tears prickle at his eyes.

“Don’t cry,” Kenma warns him, handing him his pills and the water. “These’ll make you feel better.”

This is their usual morning by now. Tetsurou drinks his medicines down but ends up crying anyway cause effects are not immediate.

“You should have an awesome life,” he says, wiping angrily at his tears. “This is all wrong.”

“I love my life,” Kenma tells him. “And I love you.”

It’s a like a written script, really. Like each day they hit replay and go on acting the same lines all over again.

Now, Kenma’s gonna caress his wet cheek, he’s gonna stroke his hair gently, he’s gonna murmur by his ear: “Let’s get ready, hm?”

And then they’ll stand in the shower for fourty-five minutes as the medication starts to give Tetsurou some sort of motivation to keep on going through the day. He'll cling to Kenma’s wet skin and will kiss him under the water in the hopes the gesture can communicate all his love, all his gratitude.

Once they’re all dried up, Tetsurou make breakfast for both of them. It’s the one thing he does without too much dread, cause Kenma can’t cook to save his life and needs him for it, at least.

“What are you gonna teach your students today?” Kenma asks.

This answer varies from time to time, today it is: “It’s revision day. We’re doing some experiment with alcohol.”

“That’s fun!” Kenma says. He smiles, but it’s obvious he could fall asleep this instant without realising.

Tetsurou reaches out and lets his hand run through Kenma’s hair, still a bit damp from the shower. “Go to sleep,” he says, even if he knows Kenma’s not going to.

“Not until you get to school, no,” he mumbles, leaning in his touch, just as the script predicted.

Luckily, Tetsurou’s middle school is pretty close to home. Only a ten minute walk. It’s such a short distance he doesn’t even have to use a knee pad on his hurt leg.

He texts Kenma as soon as he crosses the threshold. _I made it safely_.

Kenma sends him a picture of himself snuggling their cat on the bed. Usually, on mornings, Oishi sleeps and Tetsurou never wants to bother him, so he just waits till his day ends when finally it’s gonna be his turn to cuddle him. _we love you , daddy <3,_ Kenma writes.

This is the first time of the day where Tetsurou smiles and, from there on till noon, his mood only improves.

While he walks the hall he reminisces the past. His father dying a month ago makes him think about when he had lost his mother.

That was around the first time he met Kenma and Tetsurou remembers thinking that God had wanted to punish him for whatever reason a eight year old could be punished for.

He hated Kenma, he realises, hated going to his house and have to awkwardly play games for three hours straight without talking. He hated getting away from his town and his friends, only to find this kid who had no interest whatsoever in what he had just gone through.

How entitled had he been. How _wrong_ had he been.

But he only hated for a couple of months, cause children are not capable of spite for long periods of time and Tetsurou had been a deeply hurt little kid.

He strolls through the corridors of the school, reaching his class. They are thirty lovely middle schoolers and Tetsurou remembers all their names in alphabetical order, knows all of their parents, prepares differentiated lessons to be sure each one of them can grasp the highest possible quantity of information.

He’s so proud of them Kenma says he might seem like a pedo to someone that overhears him talk about his students. But they keep him alive on mornings and he _loves_ them.

He doesn’t even call names during homeroom. He just takes a look at the class and immediately can tell who’s missing. Then, till the bell signals the start of lessons he chats with the children.

“I’m bringing you to the dungeons today,” he says. The _dungeons_ are the chemistry lab.

Some of the most excitable kids cheer on their seats, a little girl named Annya asks him what they are gonna do. That is her favourite question. Always wants to know what they are gonna do before hand, not liking surprises by one bit.

“Experimenting with alcohol,” Tetsurou says. “See if you remember it’s properties.”

“Teacher!” another girl, Emiko, gets her hand up. “Alcohol explodes.”

“Yes! It’s very inflammable. Good!” Tetsurou smiles at her, always so eager to show him she _gets_ the lessons. Such a hard-working, brilliant child.

The bell rings and Tetsurou has to go to a third year class for first period. “I’ll be back third period, kids,” he says, before heading out of the door.

His students remind him a lot of him when he was around their age: he was twelve when he realised Kenma was his best friend. They had just gone together to a volleyball event and were coming back home.

“It was the best!” Tetsurou had said, relishing the sensation the ball had left on his hand when he had spiked it for the first time ever in a proper gym, over a proper net. “Wasn’t it?”

“You looked really cool,” Kenma had told him. “Maybe you were made for it.” As always, Kenma’s words shook him to the core. He was capable of saying mind-blowing things with a strong belief, so it seemed like he was being a prophet. Tetsurou admired that a lot about him.

“You’re so kind, Kenma!” Tetsurou had told him. “You were made for it too.”

“I don’t love it as much,” Kenma had scoffed. “And I’m not being kind. It’s just the truth.”

“You’re the greatest friend,” Tetsurou ha said to him then.

“Shut up, you idiot!” Kenma had said, trying to hide a blush with his hand.

During lunch period, Kenma usually sends him a text. _lemme see your food._

Tetsurou smiles, sends him a picture of the udon he bought from the school canteen and types: _always so loving to me. I miss you too :(_

Kenma says: _my lunch is worse than yours :(((( i hate you._

Today it’s been a very good day till now. He had fun on third period, showing different reaction to his students as they watched in wonder and he’s still riding off that adrenaline, but he can feel himself getting more and more numb.

He writes: _tmrrw i’ll make u lunch too, baby. just remind me, k?_

He usually tells Kenma to remind him to prepare lunch too, cause on mornings he's too broken to remember anything, but Kenma never does. He'll probably won't do it tomorrow either.

Kenma answers: _yeah :****. take your pills. see you at six?_

On afternoons, Tetsurou coaches a high school volleyball team. He arrives there by two p.m. and stays till five o’ clock. The guys are almost as awesome as his students, even if they are a little harder to manage and don’t really get along with one another. But, again, he loves them. He teaches them receives before anything and tries to get them to understand that spiking is not that awesome if the set is floppy and unbalanced.

Through their eyes he rediscovers his love for the sport.

He was sixteen years old when he finally realised he had fallen in love with Kenma. It was playing volleyball, right after he had dyed his hair blond.

“I think you look really good!” he had blurted out when he had first seen him, cause it was a very unlikely thing to do for Kenma and he wanted to support him no matter what.

Kenma had just shook his head with a scowl on his face. He looked like he was about to cry. “I fucking _fucked up_ ,” he had said. “I wanted it to be light brown. Now everybody’s gonna stare.”

“Let them!” Tetsurou had retorted. “I like it a lot. The team likes it a lot.”

When they had won their practice match against another school, that same day, Tetsurou had said: “Blond hair is our token. You bring us good fortune, Kenma.”

Instead of scorning him, as he was used to do, Kenma had smiled, pushing him lightly on his chest as he passed by. “Thanks,” he had whispered.

After practice, three times a week, Tetsurou has a half an hour appointment with his therapist. Those are the most difficult part of his days. He has to walk a lot more to get there so he usually straps on his knee pad before going to the train station.

This is around the hours Kenma uploads his youtube videos, so when he gets on the train he receives another couple of messages. _you’re so sexy, i miss you,_ he says today.

Tetsurou replies with: _i’m dreading this._

_it’s gonna be over soon and i’m waiting for you. no stream days make me very needy >:]_

No stream days are Tetsurou’s therapy session days for a reason. He usually needs Kenma to hold him through the night, till he cries himself unconscious. But sometimes are better than others and today is a good day, after all.

His therapist, Dr. Suzuki, says he is going through a depressive episode due to his father’s death and that he might be suffering from unjustified survivor’s guilt because he’s the last one alive of his family. She seems convinced the antidepressants she’s been giving him along side with a stable routine will help him to heal.

On Sundays, Tetsurou goes there with Kenma, cause Dr. Suzuki wants him to participate in the therapy. “You’re my best infiltrated ally,” she used to tell him during the first sessions. And he had taken his role very seriously. Without him, by now Tetsurou would be in a very dark place, if not dead.

One week after his knee injury, Tetsurou’s father died. Those days had been the hardest on Kenma, cause they were a complete blur in Tetsurou’s memory.

He remembers the pain when Kenma massaged his knee with a special kind of pomate and little else: Kenma sobbing on his chest, saying, _Kuro, you have to eat,_ Kenma trying to pull him out of bed, screaming, _You need to move your fucking leg or you won’t walk anymore!_ Kenma, pressing his forehead against Tetsurou’s, shuddering, weeping, _Please, Kuro, please, talk to me._

If anything, Tetsurou realises, he wants to get better cause he brought him so much pain. That’s why he’s so open hearted with Dr. Suzuki. She helps him get better, he tries to help her to do that. And maybe then he’ll make Kenma happy.

He gets home shaking a little on his feet, only slightly teary eyed.

Kenma is waiting, as always, and greets him with a hug and a kiss. “I ordered take-out,” he says, gazing his hips, swinging as if he wants to dance with him. He kisses him again, asks him: “What did the doctor say?”

“She asked if I’m content about my life now,” Tetsurou says. He hears Oishi’s collar bell as the cat makes his way to the entrance. He greets him too, with a _meow_ and a _purr_ against his leg.

Tetsurou had wanted to become a biochemical research worker, he had wanted to be a pro volleyball player. He had wanted to make his father proud and spend the rest of his life with Kenma.

Instead, he’s a middle school young teacher and a volleyball coach. His father died but not before Tetsurou graduated with the highest grades and Kenma is _right there_.

It’s not what he wanted. But, he _realises_ , it’s becoming a splendid, perfect life.

“Kenma,” he says now and he’s crying, but, he _realises_ , for the first time in months it’s not from pain. “I think I might be the happiest person in the world.”

Kenma gets on his tippy toes to kiss his forehead. “Me too,” he whispers.


End file.
